The Olympian Kings
by overpoweredginger
Summary: The Olympic Peninsula is home to a great many capes that lie on both sides of the law. This story covers the turmoil in the area, usually following the local Protectorate team.


While much of this is original characters, everything from Worm (including the setting) belongs to Wildbow, the author. Author's Notes are at the bottom.

The moon was floating high above the South Street Bar & Grille by the time Tyler Johnson arrived. The bar was empty but the door was open, so Tyler assumed that Connor Ryan, proprietor of the South Street Bar and Tyler's long-time friend, had forgiven his tardiness and decided to wait for him. He entered the building, but he had to duck his head while he checked his watch to see how late he was. Tyler straightened himself as he passed over the threshold and took a moment to fiddle with his wristwatch; it had caught in an awkward position on one of the crests of bone protecting his wrist. He finally managed to get a good look at his watch and figured out the bar had closed about fifteen minutes ago, so he was thirty minutes later than he'd promised.

With his eyes adjusting to the current lack of lighting in the establishment, he scanned the place for what should be the only person still there. Within a few seconds he found Connor Ryan asleep at one of the tables. He walked over to the slumped man, careful to avoid any sharp noises, and gently shook his shoulder to wake him. Tyler's attempt was successful, as Connor stirred and shook his short auburn hair before mumbling some inane nonsense: "No. No more for yo-". His eyes flared when he saw Tyler, and he leapt up and embraced Tyler. "Tyler, my friend! I'm so glad you could make it!"

Connor let go of Tyler and proceeded to offer him a bottle before turning on a nearby lamp and taking his seat. He didn't waste any time in beginning the conversation. "Before I fell asleep, I was afraid something had happened to you. Annette called earlier in the evening and told me she thought you'd be late, based on something she saw on the television. I figure bad things are likely, given your occupation."

Tyler leaned back in his seat and cracked open the bottle before replying. "What, how did your wife know we were meeting tonight?"

"I told her.", was his response. "I figure that since we occasionally talk late enough that my return home wakes her up, she at least deserves to have measures in place to stay asleep."

Tyler couldn't fault him for that line of thought. "That kind of trust is a good thing to have in a relationship. You're lucky you have Annette."

"Yes. Yes I am. Every day, I have a prayer of thanks set aside specifically for her." Connor spoke with the mirth of a man who knew he was bragging, but whose boasts were justified. "So, do you like it?" he asked, referring to the bottle he offered Tyler.

Tyler's sip from said bottle was interrupted by the question, but he finished it before replying. "What, this? It's the third try, right? It's not bad for our third try at brewing our own beer."

Connor was less generous with his praise. "Eh, I can see why you say that, but just because we aren't experienced doesn't mean that this doesn't have flaws." He swirled the bottle for emphasis, then stopped mid-spin with a confused look on his face. "Wait a minute. You were delayed by something important enough to be announced on television, and here we are, arguing over beer opinions. Something's wrong here; fix it."

The imperative face and tone Connor used caused Tyler to chuckle a little. "Relax.", he said, "We weren't battling other capes or anything like that. It was just a press conference." His mind began to sober as he brought details to the front of his mind.

"A press conference?" Connor chose this time to let a slight scoff escape his lips. "Well, I guess it wasn't that bad, then. I thought the League had attacked or something."

Tyler remained serious, but remained lost as to how he could have approached the situation. "I don't know how bad it went, but it sure as hell didn't go well. The League did actually attack today; there were a few skirmishes around noon. Two robberies and a bomb, all claimed by them, but they were clearly designed to _look_ big, when in reality they were hardly anything all that serious." Connor nodded his head in confirmation; he had heard the stories around lunchtime. "Nobody was killed, and I'm fairly certain that no one was even hurt during the robberies. The way I figure it, though, is that they were stepping up to the challenge, and they certainly did it with subtlety." Tyler took this opportunity to put his story on hold as he emptied his bottle a little more.

Connor wasn't silent, though. "Challenge? Who's been challenging them? The League's been around for years. Not that that's a good thing, but they're one of the closest things you get to a fixture in this town. I thought the PRT's goal with them was to mitigate their crimes and wear them down over time instead of wiping them out in a fortnight or whatever."

Brian sighed in response, and his weariness became readily apparent. "That changed." was all he offered at first. After another tired sigh, he elaborated: "Yes, that was the plan originally. The suits decided that completely eradicating the League would be too expensive and a wasted effort. However, they began to reconsider it when the various ratings dropped as a result of me bringing Blaze onto the team."

"That's that crazy arsonist chick, right?"

Tyler couldn't help but roll his eyes at the question. "There's much more to it than just _that_, but yes, she was tried for arson and yes the case was later dropped because of psychiatric issues. That's beside the point; let's move on. Blaze's recruitment was controversial and we weren't doing too hot to boot, so the suits decided that we would launch a campaign against the League and get them out of this city, and then capitalize on the PR. It was a very hush-hush affair, with the more prominent PRT suits planning their plans and keeping everything top secret. The intention was for the campaign to be mostly waged out of the public eye, then make a big announcement in the last few days of the conflict, which would leave the civilians with an impressive spectacle and nice highlight reel."

Interjecting with a hint of amusement, Connor asked: "Let me guess: something went wrong." He always enjoyed Tyler's cape stories; it was better than watching the local news.

"Yes, but more specifically, I fucked up." Tyler did little to hide his implications in this. "A few days back, at the end of our first clash with Verbatim after he joined the League, news reporters were on the scene and I made an off-hand joke that was clearly sarcastic and I swear it wasn't on the record, but nevertheless the media made it a thing and now the PRT is openly warring with the League."

"Well. That sucks." There was little else Connor could say.

"True, but you should've seen the press conference tonight."

"And why would I do that, when I have your lovely, unbiased opinion to go by?"

"Touche. All the League nonsense aside, things still weren't going well for me and my team. The first non-League question I get asked is where Masque is. That topic has been forgotten about for three months and then bam, some asshole asks me if I had tried to contact a cape who told everyone not to contact her when she went undercover six months ago. Then someone asked if it was possible that Radar would abuse her master abilities and turn the city into an Orwellian police state, especially given the League escalation and all it entails."

"I thought that issue was settled when Radar graduated from the Wards."

"It was, or at least it should have been. I went ahead and said exactly what I said when she was inducted on her eighteenth birthday: that if anybody was responsible enough to wield that power properly it was her, and that she was perfectly capable of using her power in a way that ensures public safety without intruding on people's private lives. The poor girl's hard enough on herself as it is, but people are flinging presumptions and judgments left and right the few times they see her in costume while never getting a glimpse at what she's like out of costume. Radar is absolutely terrified of her power, and she's deliberately handicapping her effectiveness to avoid intruding on civilian's private lives. She may be one of the higher-level masters out there, but she's also a scared little girl who's hard enough on herself without their help." Tyler leaned forward and rested his head in an empty hand, weary from all of his efforts as a cape. "If I had known what I was getting into when Vanquish asked me to take over, I would have thought twice. I'm not sure I still could have refused him, but I certainly would have hesitated before accepting. Sure, I'm no Legend when it comes to public relations, but God damn I'm certain that it can't be this hard for everyone else in my position."

Ever empathetic, Connor grinned as his old friend sat across from him and unloaded his burdens. "Well, listen to you. The way you talk, a man would think that leading a Protectorate team is one huge joyless trap."

Tyler couldn't help but copy Connor's grin at that. "Well, there's always the budget."

In a second, Connor's face dropped into a horrified stare. "The upside is _managing a budget_?! Now I certainly regret encouraging you to become a cape."

Tyler's grin cracked into a light laugh. "No, it's not like that at all. I've never been good with spreadsheets; that's why I have a secretary. What I'm talking about is that when the Protectorate allocates funding to teams, one of the things it takes into account are the tinkers on said team."

"Oh, so with Junkyard's-"

"Exactly. You know that Junkyard's specialty is starting from scrap, but now he's gotten skilled enough that his end products look like they came from Dragon herself. We're buying materials from the city's junkyards at a good tenth of what Vanquish's materials cost when he was on the team, and combined with Hindsight's lectures to local hospitals and medical students, we're pretty much set financially. I've heard some horror stories about teams being shut down because they were a drain of capital, so I'm fairly certain we won't disband simply because of how cheaply we operate."

"I don't doubt it, but I'm still curious about the press conference. You made it sound so bad; did anything good come of it at all?" Tyler smiled again, but this time it was more like someone who appreciated the irony of a past tragedy than genuine mirth.

"That's complicated, so let me explain a little more first." He drained his bottle before beginning the next segment of his story. "Up until the last few minutes of the conference, we were getting our asses kicked by the media. Controversies were being brought up, both old and new, and none of them were arguments we could really win. Then, for the final question, a reporter stands up and aims it directly at me. I can't remember exactly what he said, and I don't want to ruin it by paraphrasing, but the gist of the question was when I was going to retire as a cape because I was an incompetent Case 53."

"WHAT?!" Connor's chair clattered onto its side as he leapt from his seat. "Why the bloody hell did he say that! You've been a goddamn hero for twelve yea-"

"Ten." Tyler interjected, "You found me in '97, but I didn't join until '99."

Connor remained livid. "I don't care! You've been saving our collective asses for a decade now, and some snarky reporter fuck decides to ignore all that you've done and denounce you on live fucking television!" The barkeeper stood there, filled with rage, but he remained under control as he set his chair back up and sat back down. "How the hell was that a good thing?"

Tyler's smile shifted from sardonic joy to proper amusement as he explained, "Everybody in the room, barring myself, had the exact same reaction that you did. If I was to wager a guess, I would assume he was trying to end both the Q&A panel and my public image in one fell swoop. I couldn't have told the man off, but in the end I didn't need to. If the collective gasp was any indication, then he tried too hard, and I'd be surprised if he retains his job for long. All of a sudden, everyone started asking _him _questions, and they weren't the flattering kind either. I turned around to leave, and I saw Favor pinning Rocket to the ground. Later, she told me that Rocket actually fired up his jets to attack the man, but I'm just glad it didn't come to blows. After that streak of fortune, I think my team is safe for the time being."

He stopped his story there, as Connor couldn't help but laugh at the conclusion. He soon joined in, and the two friends sat across from each other, entertained by the unexpected fortune. Tyler was the first to regain control, but Connor was the first to speak. "Well, that was certainly interesting. I guess the good guys always do win in the-" He stopped when he heard the creaking of the front door opening.

The pair moved to get a look at the entrance to South Street, and standing in the doorway were three men. Tyler checked his watch; it was 12:34.

"Hey, you!" The man in front waved at the table where Connor and Tyler were sitting, and he was clearly the most intoxicated of the bunch. "Serve us. We're thirsty." Tyler didn't see the humor, but the trio obviously did, as indicated by their chuckles.

"Yeah." The one with the baseball bat chimed in. "We want a drink."

"Bar closed a while ago." Connor retorted. "Go home and sleep."

"Hey! We want drinks, and we want them _now_." The lead drunk pulled out a handgun for emphasis, but Tyler rose to his feet.

"I'll handle this." Was all he offered Connor as he strode to greet the unwelcome patrons. He towered over the three men by at least half a foot, and the moonlit gleam off his dark skin would be intimidating to normal people. What they lacked in wits, though, the drunks made up for in bravery.

"Do you know who we are?" The leader elaborated. "We're with the League!" A gunshot rang out for emphasis.

Tyler was forced back a step as the bullet made contact. He didn't fall over, but that didn't stop Connor from dashing away from his table. Tyler composed himself; the bullet stuck between the fused crest of bone that was his ribcage and his thickened skin. The cape picked out the bullet with his fingers and flicked it, sending the lead flying out the doorway. Before they could run, Tyler picked up the thugs and sent them after their bullet.

Connor arrived soon after with a first aid kit and a cell phone, and Tyler wrapped up his wound while Connor called the police. After he finished the call, but while Tyler was halfway done with tending to his wound, they noticed the silhouette of a woman standing in the doorway, breathing heavily. "I heard a gunshot and ran over to see-" She paused, like she saw a ghost. "Titan, is that you?" She asked Tyler with a cross of relief and doubt.

Tyler replied jovially. "No ma'am, I'm Tyler Johnson. People only call me Titan when I'm in costume. Granted, it's not much of a costume and there's no mask with it, but at this point in time you can just call me Tyler."

"Well Tyler, first of all this bandage is tied wrong." The woman knelt by the hero and fussed with the bandage, wrapping and rewrapping until it met her satisfaction. In the meantime, Tyler got a better look at the new arrival. She looked appeared to be a model housewife, well-groomed and dressed in a coat that didn't look cheap. Her hair went down to her neck, and for some reason Tyler noticed that she didn't have any makeup on. He started to wonder why the woman was here and doing what she was doing, but his mental questions were silenced when she finished her work with the bandage and stood up. As she gave her name, she and Connor worked together to hoist Tyler to his feet. "My name is Kate Lawrence," she explained, "and I was informed that Titan was going to be here tonight." She shook hands with the two men and let Tyler answer her.

"Miss Lawrence, this is Connor Ryan, proprietor of this establishment and my friend for over a decade."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, miss." Connor's hand was firm as he made his acquaintance.

"So, Kate," Tyler took over the conversation now. It wasn't hard, given his appearance, but he was curious. "I'm glad you could help with my first aid, but am I correct in assuming that you were here for another reason?"

Her reply was simple: "I need Titan's help."

Thanks for reading! Honestly, I'm not too sure where I want this to go. At this point, I'm mostly trying to establish all of my characters before I start going places, and as a result I'm experimenting with exposition and seeing what sticks. As is custom on this site, comments and reviews are graciously accepted, and I could certainly use some third-party perspectives on this. Also, as of now the story is rated T, but I expect that to change in the future (as well as the title), so you have been warned.

I hope to see you all when the next chapter comes out, and again, thanks for reading!


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